


Missing

by INMH



Category: Rule of Rose (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Horror, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-11
Updated: 2011-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22948003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: [Originally posted in 2011]  With all the grown-ups gone, they were all alone.
Kudos: 10





	Missing

The night Martha went missing, there was a significant absence of orphans around.

Hoffman was out dealing with some business.

Clara was sick in bed.

Jennifer was in the sick room with Wendy, keeping her company through another bout of the flu, or a cold, or whatever it was that made Wendy cough so much.

It was a cold night in November.

Normally, being as early as it was in the evening, Jennifer expected to hear the sounds of the boys causing a ruckus, Meg and Susan reading, Olivia wailing, but there was nothing.

Complete silence.

That was the first indication to her that something was seriously, dreadfully _wrong_. Jennifer nervously gave voice to her concerns to Wendy, thinking that she might have a solution.

But Wendy merely smiled and said that Jennifer should enjoy the silence with her, as it came so rarely. The Princess told her Prince not to worry, and so Jennifer tried her very best to put it out of mind.

About fifteen minutes later, there was a scream and a loud, shaking 'thump' from not too far away.

Jennifer, true to form, was scared witless, torn between going to see what in the world was going on and hiding under the bed like a coward.

And that was when Wendy did something odd:

Instead of being concerned, or even surprised, she merely smiled and said that Nicholas and Xavier must have played some nasty joke on Miss Martha.

Nothing to worry on.

But Jennifer pressed the subject, saying that that scream sounded more than just startled, until Wendy (With a bit more force than was common for her) told her to just forget about it. Don't worry.

 ** _Drop it_**.

And Jennifer did.

Or, pretended to.

Because a few minutes later, she excused herself to use the bathroom, and instead of heading for the lavatory, she immediately scuttled over to the entrance hall, the direction from which she'd heard the disturbing noises.

And on the ground, there were small streaks of blood.

They led to the Filth Room hall.

And Jennifer, however morbidly curious, turned away and went back to the sick room without a moment's hesitation.

The next day, the stains were gone, and though Hoffman grumbled about Martha "taking off", the subject of Martha being gone was not an urgent one.

But Jennifer couldn't help but notice how calm Wendy was, or that she'd seen the Princess talking with the Duchess with smiles on their faces before breakfast, or that everyone seemed to know something that she didn't.

And she didn't ask.

Martha's disappearance didn't mean much.

The night Clara disappeared, everyone was in bed.

This was the one, the very first occasion where Jennifer had the least amount of involvement.

She was the eyes and the ears of the orphanage, and that position came at a high price: Her childhood, her sanity.

That night, all she heard was some thumping, and the sound of voices (So strange, after being confined to hearing only the voices of her peers for the past several months) downstairs.

That itching curiosity that had gotten her into terrible trouble before began to bother her, but Jennifer angrily silenced it and forced herself to stay in bed.

She didn't want to know.

She _didn't_.

Unlike with Martha's disappearance, Clara's was met with a reversal of the roles. The orphans were openly surprised and confused with her absence… But Hoffman was dismissive.

When asked about Clara's whereabouts, he gruffly dismissed them, telling them to complete their chores. This was incredibly strange; Clara was Hoffman's favorite aside from Diana, and therefore her absence should have impacted him the most.

But apparently, it didn't.

Jennifer took up the duster and went to start on a chair when she noticed that Diana was glaring at Hoffman much in the way a tiger would look at you if you'd stabbed it in the paw.

In a word, _enraged_.

The look in her eyes boasted murder, and though she didn't notice that Jennifer was observing her behavior, Jennifer certainly didn't give her the chance to. She looked away and hurried off to another room.

She could've asked, but she didn't. Partially, she knew she wouldn't get an answer.

Partially because she just did not want to know.

When Hoffman disappeared, Jennifer knew exactly who was behind it.

Much like the night of Clara's disappearance, everyone had been in bed. It was around eleven o' clock. Maybe midnight.

Jennifer was awoken by something- she had no idea what- and sleepily, dazed, went over to the window of the dormitory and looked out.

What she saw woke her up right quick.

There was a big, dark stain on the ground below, in the dirt and sand. And it turned into a long path that led out of sight.

Jennifer went back to bed, but didn't sleep.

The next morning, she didn't eat breakfast, so consumed was she in the mystery of the stain. She knew exactly what it was, but had no idea how it had gotten there, or why.

Then it hit her.

Jennifer was stunned with the initial possibility, but…

But…

It was possible. More than.

Whilst everyone else went about their morning routine, Jennifer stayed upstairs and then slowly made her way to Hoffman's office.

She knocked.

No answer.

Knocked once more.

No answer.

Finally, she opened the door. There would be considerably poor consequences if her theory was wrong and Hoffman came in fine and dandy and found her in his office, but she risked it.

But he wasn't there.

The room was empty.

The bed was neat, un-slept in.

"He's not here, you know."

Jennifer jumped a mile and whipped around, scared out of her wits.

Diana was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, cool as the storied cucumber, and a lazy effect to her posture.

Dear God, something was wrong.

In the past three or four months, Diana had been wound more tightly than a jack-in-the-box. Every move she made, every step she took, you could tell she was agitated. And she'd been more prone to snapping at everyone recently.

But now… Now she was calm. Collected.

_Relieved._

Oh God.

"Wh… Wh… Wh-Where… Where is… Where is he?" Jennifer whispered, actively terrified of the answer. Diana cocked her head to the side, regarding Jennifer with none of the contempt she'd been giving her in the past few months.

"Haven't the foggiest."

And she strolled from the room, cool as you please.

She was lying, and Jennifer knew it.

She was too calm, too cool, too… _Assured_ , for someone who despised Hoffman. If Diana really didn't know where Hoffman was, she would've made some sort of derisive comment about his supposed whereabouts.

And she wouldn't have looked so satisfied.

So Jennifer, pushed by that troublesome curiosity, went outside to the side of the house and found that stain, that massive, massive _red_ stain (Her most favorite and most hated color) that stretched across the path.

The stain continued, in smooth streaks and messy patches, towards the back of the mansion, like the bread crumbs Hansel and Gretel dropped before the birds ate them. And Jennifer followed the stain wary of every step, shutting her eyes and not wanting to see but not being able to look away.

Around the corner. Towards the closed-off section of the back yard where Martha hung the clothing to dry.

As Jennifer approached it, she could see, through the messy wooden door whose planks were uneven and had one or two knotholes present, a large, lumpy set of sheets that had been bound in rope, and were covered in more of that red that she hated and loved so much-

"Did you want something, _Jenn-i-fah?_ "

Jennifer gasped.

Diana had come up right behind her, leaning down and whispering into the little blonde's ear. The unexpected proximity had shocked Jennifer into a near state of up-right catatonia, which, in closer observation, was probably exactly what Diana had intended to happen.

"Come and take a walk with me, won't you?"

This was the one time in Jennifer's months at the orphanage in which she truly felt as though she was about to die. All the times when she'd previously been terrified by Diana, she'd been afraid of a beating, but this was the first time when she truly felt that Diana would physically kill her. Her voice was just too calm. She was too collected.

And she'd done it before.

Recently.

But Jennifer could only follow Diana, mute and numb, into the forest that surrounded the orphanage.

Deep they went, and this only confirmed further Jennifer's suspicions; Diana wanted no witnesses this time. Wanted no one to hear Jennifer's screams.

Diana had no weapon, and so Jennifer assumed that the older girl intended to throttle her to death, maybe leaving her there in the woods or burying her or throwing her body into the river…

And numbly, Jennifer realized that Diana had finally done it.

She'd finally lost her mind.

All this time, being tormented and abused, when tormenting and abusing others just didn't cut it when trying to make herself better, she was like a boiling volcano, the pressure building up and up and up and up and up…

Until she exploded.

Cracked.

Diana had taken down Hoffman in the process, and now she would take Jennifer too.

Dimly, she began to accept and even welcome the idea.

She'd seen too much. Heard too much. Been involved in just too damn much of this chaos. And what chaos it had been! Rape and bullying and dead babies and dead parents and fear and pain and _loneliness_ …

Yes. Maybe it was better this way.

Abruptly, they stopped.

And once again, Diana was standing before her, looking down at her.

For the longest time, no one spoke.

Jennifer had nothing she could say.

Diana was waiting to see if that was the case. When it was apparent to her, Diana tipped her head to one side, slightly, and crossed her arms.

She didn't look angry.

Jennifer couldn't read that look, and it terrified her.

"You should be thanking me, Jennifer."

Jennifer was silent, uncomprehending.

"Hoffman plays with little girls like Olivia plays were her toys; rough. Until he gets _bored_ with them, and moves on to the newest, shiniest toy." Diana reached out and coolly, delicately, lifted a strand of Jennifer's blonde hair.

"I'll admit it, Jennifer: You're a pretty little thing. After me, and after Clara. Hoffman likes… Well… _Liked_ pretty little things. Liked to do things to them that shouldn't be done." Diana gave Jennifer a humorless smile. "But you barely have any idea as to what I'm talking about, don't you?"

Jennifer was paralyzed. No speech, no movement. Diana's smile curled into a sneer.

"You should be so lucky. I _wish_ I didn't know." She calmly released her hold on Jennifer's hair. Then, gently, daintily, she put her index finger under Jennifer's chin and tilted her head up a little further so their eyes could meet.

"Now really, Jennifer, what's to be accomplished by telling anyone about this? Hoffman's not coming back. We can do what we want here. We can take care of ourselves, and without having to worry about Martha hitting us with her broom, or Hoffman pawing at us at night. Are you going to tell anyone?"

Jennifer stared. "No." She whispered softly. Diana smirked, and then gave Jennifer's head a few light pats.

"Good girl."

And with that, Diana turned and started walking back to the Orphanage. Jennifer remained where she was. Diana didn't care. But she did stop, some several yards away, and turned back to Jennifer.

"Did you hate Hoffman, Jennifer?"

Jennifer shook her head. Diana sniffed.

"Well. If you want a reason, here's one that should get you: Because of what he did to her, Clara killed herself. That's why she's gone, and why Hoffman didn't care." She smiled, and now it was cold. "Hate him now?"

Oh…

Oh…

Jennifer plopped to the ground as Diana calmly turned back and walked back to the Orphanage.

The air was cold.

And while Jennifer sat, it began to snow.

It was December 19th, 1930.

-End


End file.
